Harriet frowned. “Just what do you think you are doing?”

“Waiting for the others to go ahead.”

“They are ahead.”

Indeed, no one remained in the room but Chase and Harriet. He decided that he rather liked that. “We will catch up to them in a second. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What? Everyone will notice we aren’t with them.”

“I daresay. But by the time they’ve noticed, you’ll have answered my question, and we’ll be well on our way to joining them.”

“I don’t like this one—” She frowned, then suddenly leaned forward and sniffed. “Brandy. I should have known it.”

“I’m a sailor. Brandy is mother’s milk to me.”

“You are not a sailor,” she said loftily. “You are a captain. That’s different.”

“How?”

“Well you”—she gestured vaguely—“order people about.”

“And?”

“And you sail the ship. But from the main…deck part. Whatever that is.”

“Hm. Your grasp of the technical aspects of sailing is quite limited.”

“And yours is better?”

Actually it was. The St. Johns owned a rather large yacht, and Chase and Devon sailed it frequently. “I know starboard from port.”

“So do I. Starboard is left and…” Her brow puckered. “No, wait. I think that’s wrong. Starboard is right and—”

“Miss Ward, may I ask you a personal question?” The brandy he’d consumed earlier combined with the exhilarating effects of one Miss Harriet Ward was making him brave, a feeling he decided he quite liked. “It’s a very personal question.”

“I don’t know—”

“If we don’t hurry, the others will soon return.”

She bit her lip and he could see her curiosity warring with her tendency toward prudence. Curiosity finally won and she sighed, then asked, “What?”

“Do you want children?”

He’d thought to startle her, to rattle her fine composure. And he’d been right. The abrupt question left her with stained cheeks and wide eyes.

“Wh—I—I never thought about—that is—” She snapped her mouth closed for a full minute while Chase watched. “Captain Frakenham, that is not a proper topic of conversation, even for an engaged couple.”

“How can you say that? Who other than an engaged couple would discuss—”

She whirled and marched to the door and on to the dining room.

Chase followed along, noting with growing pleasure the fine, firm lines of her back and the curve of her rump through the thin material of her dress.

Oh yes, it was good to be a sea captain. Very good indeed.

Chapter 13

Love, the kind the poets dream of with starry eyes and pounding hearts, always seemed to me to be rather uncomfortable. Rather like the feeling one gets sitting too close to the fire.

The Countess of Greyley to her friend, Miss Lily Treventhal while riding in Hyde Park one pleasant afternoon

Chase allowed Harriet to herd him into the dining hall. He supposed their tête-à-tête was over.

Mrs. Ward turned toward them with a relieved expression. “There you are! We were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”